


Bastion's First Halloween

by CarbonFiberSparrow



Series: Reconfigure [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Family Shenanigans, Fluff, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbonFiberSparrow/pseuds/CarbonFiberSparrow
Summary: Like the spinning of gears, the trigger of transformation… Bastion’s life changes form.Alternatively, a robot discovers family.--“And THAT is how we got Winston’s approval to host a Halloween party.”McCree blinked owlishly at Lúcio. “Winston bought that?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I promised you guys I would shoot for a Halloween fic, and here it is!
> 
> I'll have to break it up into parts, as it's not quite finished and I didn't want to leave you guys waiting. And as I said before, this is by no means perfect. It was written in a much smaller window of time, but learning how to write more with less is all part of the learning process! On that note, I hope you enjoy!

“And THAT is how we got Winston’s approval to host a Halloween party.”

McCree blinked owlishly at Lúcio. “Winston bought that?”

For a man normally so cheery the look of scrutiny on the cowboy’s face was comically out of place. If Lúcio didn’t know any better, he’d think the man traded faces with Hanzo. The thought alone pushed the musician so close to the edge of laughter that he nearly choked.

Instead he avoided eye contact with the archer directly across the dining table with the grace of a child, toothy grinned and obvious. A look he flashed at McCree who in turn only looked at him critically if not a bit perplexed.

Faintly he wondered if anyone could read minds at Overwatch. No, someone would have told him…

_Right?_

Lúcio raised a brow. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Kinda, yeah.” The cowboy’s arms crossed as he tipped back in his seat. “Winston don’t exactly take to Halloween like a horse to oats. You sure there’s not a catch?”

“We’ll put it this way,” Hana leaned forward, chin resting on laced fingers. “I’ve got a list of pre-approved snacks and drinks.” She gestured toward the omnic at table’s end. “Bastion’s in charge of decorations.”

Bastion blinked, their helm rising from the sketchpad full of doodled ideas. Pumpkins with cartoony ghosts, tables lined with autumnal colors. In the corners there were a few dragons, frogs and bunnies.

**Dah!**

“And I got music choices, posters too.” Lúcio concluded, slapping the stack of crudely done posters down like hard-won evidence. “So, yeah. I think the Big Guy likes the sound of it.”

“I think it sounds childish,” Hanzo scoffed, fully committed to disapprove. So much so that he placed his cup of still steaming tea down to focus on the conversation at hand.

Hana rolled her eyes. “You think _everything_ is childish.”

The archer glowered, mouth opened to reply—

“Anyway,” Lúcio tried not to flinch under the hardened glares for the interruption. “Childish or not this is supposed to be a team building exercise first, party second. That’s why people are gonna work in teams for the costume contest.”

McCree snorted, _knew there was a catch._

“It’ll be fun,” Lúcio reassured as his finger waggled at the cowboy. “But the costumes not required if people aren’t interested.” He pointed to the small line of fine print that said as much. “If we want a chance at holiday parties in the future though, we gotta pull a good attendance. Make a good first impression, you know?”

The dead silence _totally_ reassured him, especially when the glaring between Hana and Hanzo resumed double fold. As if that wasn’t childish? McCree, having sensed the slow decline of conversation simply dropped flat, stood with his empty plate.

“Wait, Eastwood?” The serape was itchy between his fingers, even still Lúcio tugged like a dog on a leash. “You’ll come right?”

When the cowboy hesitated, he continued. “Angela told me all about the parties you guys used to have. She even showed me some of the pictures! We’d love the help, and you could always just wear that old—”

“I’m…” He grinded his teeth at the lack of cigar, but flashed an awkward if not civil smile regardless. “Kinda with Shimada-san on this one.”

“Oh.”

Awkwardly, Lúcio let go. He shot an uncomfortable but polite smile back. “Well, that’s cool,” the musician reassured. And it was. As disappointed as he was to pull McCree from his To Be Attending list and plop him next to Hanzo and 76 in what he realized was quickly becoming a Grumpy Old Man pile, that was his choice.

He could still make this work. Tracer said she would attend, Winston too. Angela was going and had reassured that Pharah would, but then again, she’d said the same of the—

“Cowboy,” Hana snorted. She flicked an irritated hand toward the man in question. “You dress like a cowboy _all the time_. That’s not childish, but the party is?” Lúcio cringed, Bastion slowed in their drawings to look up. “Ang told us herself, you love Halloween.”

“Hana—”

The gunslinger quieted Lúcio with a hand. No, that wasn’t it. It was the smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes that stopped him, strained against the usual southern charm. The grumping face he’d borrowed from Hanzo had looked comical before. This, however, just looked downright _sad_.

“Naw,” not an inch of bite to his voice. “Not anymore.”

And with that McCree tipped his hat. “About time I headed out. Hasta leugo,” he was gone.

And the good mood with him.

…

Buttons mashed against the discord of pulsed blaster fire. The rather generic tune of synthesized melodies was lost to its pixelated bursts, and only further buried under the Korean, English and possibly Klingon curse words Hana spat like fire. A clusterfuck of booming technicolor till enemies dropped and trickled, the radar cleared of hostile red dots for the first time in who knew how long, Level Cleared—

“HANA!”

She turned from the harsh light of her computer screen and was welcomed, at first, by the hazy darkness of her room. Hana rubbed at her eyes, blinked and rubbed again. “Huh?”

“You weren’t listening, were you?” It was less an accusation, and more a disappointed lack of surprise.

She snorted. Both at the blatant truth of it and the odd trick of light that highlighted Lúcio _just_ enough to make his dreads look as if they were growing out of the bean bag he sat in. Oddly it took her longer to spy Bastion curled in the corner of the room, jars of fabric paint scattered beside an array of paint brushes.

“The contest,” the sentient bean bag known as Lúcio said. “Did you find a partner yet?”

Her smirk jutted down into a scowl. “Yeah, totally.”

“Hana…”

She cringed, the chiding tone far too similar to her mother’s. The controller in her hands probably would have cried if it was alive to feel her vice grip. Despite that she replied evenly, “I’ll figure it out.” Then crossly, “if Winston had just let us team up we would have been _done_ by now.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I know, but the Big Guy’s got a point. The whole reason he green lighted us was because we promised to mix things up, push people a little out of their comfort zone.”

“Then why do you get Bastion?”

 **Loo Zee Wuumm Deh Staah Zwee** they replied simply, helm canted in the mech pilot’s direction.

“What he said,” Lúcio stretched as he stood with an audible crack. “No one really understands him like I do. Except Zenny, and he’s already working on his costume with Angie.”

Frog faced slippers pushed through the onslaught of soda cans, crinkled wrappers and art supplies to stand beside mechanical pedes. There was an exchange of whistled approval and a thumbs up as the omnic showed Lúcio their progress, of what Hana didn’t know. It was a secret. More importantly it added to the list of things that already gnawed at her patience, a certain Shimada peaked at the top.

Unaware, Lúcio turned back to Hana. “Did you ask Genji?”

“Not interested,” she replied with a huff. “I think he’s just going as himself.”

“A green cyborg ninja dude?” He hummed as if in thought, “to his defense that’s a pretty wicked costume already. You said Dad said no?”

“No,” she kicked out and spun around, computer chair squeaking. The chair spun another circle before Hana planted her foot down, now facing the computer. “He said ‘hell no’.”

“Well, you could always ask Hanz—”

At some point the controller in her hand had gone _flying_ —

“Chill, chill!” Lúcio raised his hands over his head, wide eyed as he looked at the bean bag now embedded with black plastic at its center. “I was kidding! Man, you really gotta talk to him or something.”

Her feet kicked, and she spun again. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Right… I’m still amazed you helped him out after the shit show that was lunch.”

“I’m still amazed he’s been living here longer then I have, and doesn’t know where he’s going!” Hana dragged her palm across her face till she settled her weight on it, elbow against the knee. “He’s some high class mob assassin, how could he mix up a hallway that goes down two floors into the ranges with the one that leads to roof access?”

“I don’t know.” Lúcio shrugged, “he only started in the cafeteria like two weeks ago. Maybe he’s just not used to navigating from there?”

“You can’t tell me he hasn’t memorized the layout of this base yet. It’s even worse when you think about how much time he’s either being all angsty up there, or practically living in the rang—”

The firm knock at her door made her realize a bit too late just how loud she’d been complaining. Once, twice and another time it thumped against the metal door. Bastion, in the midst of painted fabric, stopped. Their helm pivoted toward the door and the subtlest of a twitch escaped in the form of tightening digits until a hand settled over their own.

“Easy, buddy.” Lúcio murmured. “Just the door,” he reassured as Hana stood. In contrast to the puffy green frog slippers, she opened the door in a pair of bright pink bunnies.

“… Hey,” she mumbled.

McCree gave a small smile. “Hey.” 

“… I’m sorry.” Hana nearly jumped at the cool touch of metal on her bare shoulder, but smiled back as she realized the cowboy meant it as a reassuring weight.

“Appreciate it,” he crooned. “But I know Shimada-san’s been ridin’ your ass since ya got here. I’m sure I wasn’t any help to you, and I didn’t come for no apologies. Just wanted to thank you.”

“… For?”

“For the moon pies.”

Hana cocked her head to the side.

“The ones you left at my door?” She blinked, confused. “I rightly appreciate ‘em. I’ll be sure to grab you some snacks for the next stream. You wanted some for the party too, right?”

“But I…”

Suddenly it clicked. The moon pies, the team meals, the totally faked loss of direction.

“Oh.” Once more, with feeling. “OH! The moon pies, how could I forget?” Hana flicked the cowboy’s iconic finger guns back at him, a dangerous gleam and a smile too wide. It nearly mimicked the crazed shit eating grin from Lúcio this afternoon. “Yeah, no problem! Help would be great,” before McCree replied she side stepped into the open hall, door closing on the confused face of Lúcio. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Uh,” he watched with morbid fascination as she practically bolted down the hall. “Sure!” Jesse called after, but she was already gone. “Yeah, see you tomorrow…” McCree said to the empty hall.

…

_Knock, knock, KNOCK!_

“Mr.Shimada!” Her finger rapped at the door again. “I know you’re in there. Open up!” When the pause in knocking only filled the air with silence, she continued. Knock, kn— Despite the obvious reluctance, the door opened, and in its frame stood the ever present frown of one Hanzo Shimada.

“… Yes?”

It was odd to see the man disheveled. The normally pulled back hair now draped past his shoulders, the tiniest smudge of eye liner at the corner of the archer’s eyes. It was enough that Hana lapsed into silence, long enough that Hanzo cleared his throat rather loudly.

“Just wanted to stop by,” she said suddenly. “See how you were doing.”

If his brow rose any higher it would hit the ceiling. When he didn’t dignify her with a response, she continued. “I didn’t figure it out at first,” Hana admitted. “When you started to show up at the cafeteria, I just figured you were finally coming around.”

“Getting lost after you’ve been here, what, two months?” She counted off on her fingers. “Seemed kinda odd, didn’t it? Almost as odd as those moon pies that showed up at McCree’s door, I wonder where they came from?”

Hanzo said nothing, icy gaze locked onto her like a target as she smiled.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like last time, I'll be making some additional points at the end.
> 
> Yes, I know Bastion doesn't appear too much here. The characters I was working with seemed to have fun stealing the spot light, but they'll definitely be making a much grander appearance in Part Two!
> 
> Yes, Hana and Hanzo are at each others throats in this. The two have a building tension between them that isn't explicitly explained here. I thought it would be fun to do something a little bit different, at least at first.
> 
> Yes, Jesse is a grumpy grump about Halloween.
> 
> If you guys have any questions, thoughts or critiques please feel free to shoot them my way! As I said, this is by no means perfect, and I can only hope to improve as this story continues. I'll hopefully be getting you guys Part Two before Thanksgiving!


End file.
